


resolution not regression

by keptein



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptein/pseuds/keptein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tooru frowns. “Well?” he demands. “Is that all?”</p>
<p>“No,” Kageyama says. “I want you to see me play.”</p>
<p>“I’ve seen you play,” Tooru says. Even though he’s not on it anymore, he still follows the national team. He’s seen Kageyama play.</p>
<p>Kageyama holds out two tickets. “From the stands,” he says. “As my guest.”</p>
<p>Tooru looks at the tickets suspiciously. “What is this,” he says. “What are you doing?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	resolution not regression

**Author's Note:**

> written before 147. i'm on tumbl as [asexualtobio](http://asexualtobio.tumblr.com).

Here are three things Tooru knows about himself:

he is a nice boy

he is a good captain

he is a great setter.

Here is the only thing Tobio knows about himself:

he is the best.

Here is one thing they both know:

failure is not acceptable.

*    *    *

“Karasuno won,” Tooru says.

“I beat you,” Kageyama insists.

Tooru shrugs. “It was nothing personal.” It has been five years. It was nothing personal. Tooru is not a good liar, but this one is practiced, and it comes easy.

Kageyama’s eyes are wide. He looks hurt. Tooru frowns. “Well?” he demands. “Is that all?”

“No,” Kageyama says. “I want you to see me play.”

“I’ve seen you play,” Tooru says. Even though he’s not on it anymore, he still follows the national team. He’s seen Kageyama play.

Kageyama holds out two tickets. “From the stands,” he says. “As my guest.”

Tooru looks at the tickets suspiciously. “What is this,” he says. “What are you doing?”

“I want you to see me play,” Kageyama says again. Tooru knows that he’s not going to explain himself further, even though there's obviously more to it. If he were kinder, he would think Kageyama couldn’t, but he knows them both too well for that - Kageyama doesn’t want to. He assumes he can get what he wants like this.

Tooru pushes his hands away. “No, thank you,” he says. “Invite someone else.”

He walks away. He is always the one who walks away. It feels powerful.

*    *    *

The ball hit the court.

No. The referee crossed his arms.

Out.

*    *     *

The tickets are jammed in Tooru’s mailbox when he comes home from work. They’ve been folded - neatly initally, but then again, and again, so they’re tiny and thick and Tooru has to work at unfolding them.

_FIVB Volleyball World Cup_. Two tickets.

He doesn’t even know who he’d bring.

They are some prime seats, though, and there are other matches that he can see. Besides - Japan’s national team is strong now. They might win. Tooru doesn’t know why Kageyama wants him there, other than to rub his success in Tooru’s face, but there must be something more, and that intrigues him. He rubs the rumpled paper of the ticket against his fingers, wondering what Kageyama wants out of this.

Tooru needs someone to go with him, at least.

He picks up his phone.

“Iwaizumi, you’ll never know what I got in the mail today!”

*    *    *

The victory felt hollow.

*    *    *

Iwaizumi agrees to go with him. He doesn’t even think about it, which Tooru finds interesting.

“It’s the World Cup,” Iwaizumi says incredulously. “You thought I was going to _decline_?”

“I guess not,” Tooru says. Iwaizumi shakes his head.

*    *    *

He asked for recordings of the match. There was no point in wondering how it could have gone, had Oikawa’s serve not gone out, so instead Tobio focused on the serve itself. Oikawa Tooru’s most important mistake, and he could play it and replay it, analyze every second of it.

This didn’t feel like winning. It felt like cheating.

He needs Oikawa to come to this match.

(Oikawa is going to go to this match. Iwaizumi is excited, and it will prove - once and for all - that he is the bigger man.)

He needs to show him that he’s good. That he’s the best.

(After all, it’s been -)

It’s only been -

five years.

*    *    *

Tooru sees Kageyama’s shadow everywhere he goes. He keeps expecting him to jump out at him, for him to once again demand that Tooru come see him play - but Kageyama never appears.

Either he’s grown, or Tooru doesn’t know him as well as he thought he did. But he doubts there are any aspects of Kageyama Tobio he hasn’t seen - even though he’s been willfully ignorant of Kageyama’s motivations, especially when he was younger, they’ve been too close to his own for him not to recognize them.

Now that he’s decided to go, he can admit that he’s looking forward to seeing him, if only to ease this niggling suspicion. Kageyama isn’t supposed to be a mystery, and Tooru has already gone for years trying to figure him out. 

The days pass quickly, and World Cup speculations abound. When Tooru’s at work, it’s the only thing the other coaches want to talk about (“Oikawa, you were on the national team! Give us the insider details!”) - when he gets home, it’s the only thing he reads about. _Is this the year we win_ , everyone is asking.

_Is this the team we’ll win with?_

(This is the team we will win with.)

Then suddenly it’s the day of the match, and Iwaizumi’s on his doorstep, corny supporter t-shirt on and grin wide. “You ready to go?” he asks. He looks happy and excited, and the sight is infectious - Tooru smiles back, replies that he only has a few things to grab and then they can be on their way.

The stadium is packed, but they find their seats without problem. They’re some of the best seats there, with a full, uninterrupted view of the court - further down than most people prefer to sit, but Tooru knows what Kageyama is doing.

This is as close to the setter’s view as you can get from the stands.

It feels cheeky, like another clumsy _fuck you_ from a boy who doesn’t know what he’s doing, but it’s been long enough that it doesn’t sting like it used to. Tooru allows himself a smile over it, because the resentment he feels for Kageyama is almost like an old friend at this point, and seeing him utilise his talent hurts less than seeing it waste away.

“Ushijima’s looking fit,” Iwaizumi comments when the players walk onto the court, and Tooru snorts inelegantly, grabbing some nachos and throwing them into his mouth.

“When _isn't_ he,” he says through his food.

“Do you think they have this in the bag?”

Tooru shakes his head. “Brazil’s good,” he says after swallowing. “It’s gonna be close.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Iwaizumi says. “Oh, there’s Kageyama!”

“Blergh,” Tooru says and makes a face down at the court. Iwaizumi’s elbow hits him sharply in the ribs, and Tooru drops the grimace with a pleaant laugh.

_“Let’s have a good game!”_ the players say, Brazil and Japan neatly lined up on each side of the net.

Then it’s on.

It’s a controlled match from the start. Every player keeps their cool, the intense focus on display causing a hush to fall over the stadium. The Brazilian team is tall and intimidating compared to the Japanese, but Tooru knows that height’s not always the deciding factor in a match - especially not at this competitive level.

And watching Kageyama play is _fascinating_.

When he was younger and Tooru played against him, Kageyama was a puppetmaster. The players were his puppets, and he would pull them to where he wanted, heedless of their own wishes. There are still traces of that in his play, now, but he is not disregarding the recipient of his toss like he used to - his sets are fundamentally different for each player on his team, yet so indistinguishable to the untrained eye that when the Japanese team pulls together for a synchronized attack, the spiker is a mystery.

It’s beautiful. Tooru waits for the anger to well up inside him, the envy at Kageyama and the fury that he isn’t using his potential - but he _is,_ and it never comes. In its place is something small and bittersweet, which grows every time Kageyama tosses.

Tooru’s felt it before, when he was on the national team, but it was more uncomplicated then, and it takes him until the scoreboard reads 14-11 to Japan to realise -

Kageyama pushes the ball down over the net, a dump shot that’s reckless but so unexpected that it surprises everyone on the Brazilian team, and the middle blocker jumps forward too late -

Tooru is filled with pride. He turns to Iwaizumi, who’s on his feet and cheering loudly, and Iwaizumi yells in his face once he meets Tooru’s eyes - Tooru shouts back, the unadultered passion of volleyball coursing through his veins.

“I think I just grew as a person,” he shouts to Iwaizumi.

“What?”

“I’m happy for Kageyama!”

Iwaizumi’s smile grows wider and he grabs Tooru to pull him under his arm, giving him a noogie before he releases him again. “Of course you are!” he yells, although the crowd’s cheer is dying down now. “You’re not as big of an asshole as you think!”

(Did he see? Did he see? He’s not doing this for him, he’s not, but did he see, _did he see_ -)

“I never thought I was an asshole,” Tooru says once they sit back down. It’s a weak deflection, but Iwaizumi lets him get away with it, still grinning from the energy of the match.

“Good,” is all he says, before he leans forward to pay attention, eyes pinned on the ball.

Tooru watches him for a few seconds before he, too, turns back to spectating.

The other players are excellent, but his eyes keep returning to Kageyama’s form, the lines that have stayed familiar to Tooru even as they’ve changed over the years. The court is a constellation, five stars gathered around Alpha Centauri.

Japan has the first set, and Tooru knows this is the match that will decide the outcome of the world cup - Iwaizumi hugs him, just as fired up as he is.

“Do they have this one?”

“I think so,” Tooru says, grinning. “I think so.”

*    *    *

Tobio only remembers in starts and stutters that Oikawa is watching. It will hit him just after a toss, when his feet hit the ground and the sound of a palm hitting the ball is still ringing in his ears - Oikawa is watching him. Oikawa is _seeing_ him.

He is going to win. The team is going to win.

*    *    *

Brazil wins the second set 25-22.

Japan wins the third set 25-23.

They win.

*    *    *

The sun is shining when they exit the stadium. The stands selling merchandise are lined up outside, a sea of red jerseys everywhere Tooru can see, excited men waving fake medals around. Tooru and Iwaizumi have tacitly agreed to wait until the team exits. Tooru knows some of them still, from his time on the team, and Iwaizumi came out with them a few times - and he wants to congratulate Kageyama, he says.

Tooru wants to see Kageyama too. He doesn’t say it, but he’s sure Iwaizumi knows.

They kill time at the booths, Tooru buying Iwaizumi a scarf with tassles just because he says he’ll never wear it, patiently waiting for the national team to exit. A big screen, set up above them, shows interviews with the coaches, one-liners from players on both sides, and just once Tooru lifts his head to see Kageyama nodding seriously at the camera-man and saying:

“We all played well, that’s why we won.”

Then he wanders off-screen.

Tooru laughs and points, but even though Iwaizumi turns quickly he looks up too late to catch it, the tassels from his new scarf hitting him in the face and making Tooru laugh even harder.

When the national team finally exits, everyone around Tooru starts cheering again. Ushijima is talking to a journalist, and he leads the team - behind him follow the rest, all familiar faces even if Tooru’s never played with them. At the end, there is Kageyama.

Kageyama’s eyes are searching the crowd. When he sees Tooru and Iwaizumi, he visibly stills before he starts making his way over.

“Well-played,” Iwaizumi says as soon as he’s close enough to hear. Kageyama nods, the lines around his eyes easing.

“Thank you,” he says, and looks at Tooru. He is obviously trying to hide the fact that he is waiting.

Tooru wants to leave him hanging, but then he remembers the feeling of watching Kageyama play, and he knows they’ve both been waiting for far too long.

“Yeah,” he says. “You made the team the best it could be.”

The flush spreads from Kageyama’s ears to his nose, and it takes Tooru a second to realise he is smiling genuinely, not grimacing against the sun.

Iwaizumi claps Kageyama’s shoulder. “Congrats,” he says. “I’m gonna go catch up with the others.”

“Get autographs, you mean,” Tooru says with a laugh, but Iwaizumi is still too satisfied with the victory to even punch him for the comment. They both watch him go before turning back.

“I didnt know if you were coming,” Kageyama says. “You said you wouldn’t.”

“I changed my mind,” Tooru says. “People do that, you know.”

“I know,” Kageyama says quickly. His face is still red. “But you’re not - you’re not people.”

Tooru stops and stares at him. Kageyama won’t meet his eyes, eyes darting from quick looks at his face to the stands behind him, and Tooru waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “What,” Tooru says finally.

Kageyama shrugs, but when he looks at him again, he seems more determined, resolution settling along with his blush. “You’re Oikawa,” he says.

(That’s something else, a category all on its own.)

Tooru smiles. Years ago, he would have taken it as an insult, seen the hard set of Kageyama’s mouth and thought it meant Kageyama thought he was lesser, that Kageyama agreed with him - but now, Kageyama’s face is just barely hiding the uncertainty underneath, and being Oikawa doesn’t sound so bad.

Tooru has accomplished a lot, after all.

“Thanks,” he says. “You’ve grown, Tobio-chan.”

Kageyama grimaces. He opens his mouth and closes it again, but Tooru’s not going to make a habit of giving Kageyama leeway - he never has before, after all - and he waits him out.

“Oikawa,” he says finally. “Do you want to go for coffee sometime.”

Tooru looks at him, wide-eyed, before he starts laughing. Kageyama’s face shuts down in parts, and he’s starting to pull away before Tooru gets the breath to say, “No, no, wait -”

“What,” Kageyama says, pissed and curt, clearly ready to leave.

“I’ll go with you,” Tooru says, wiping at his eyes, still laughing a little.

Kageyama narrows his eyes. “Not to make fun of me,” he says bluntly.

Tooru pauses and shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I want to.”

He visibly relaxes at that, tension Tooru thought had grown innate to Kageyama sometime between their last meeting as team mates and their first meeting as opponents disappearing from his figure. He looks behind him and sees Ushijima gesturing, then gives Tooru another quick look. “I have to go back,” he says.

“I’ll see you,” Tooru says, still amused, and Kageyama nods, a quirk of his lips.

Iwaizumi comes back within seconds of Kageyama turning around, and he did get almost everyone’s autographs.

“How exciting,” Tooru says.

“Thanks for bringing me,” Iwaizumi says. “It’s been a good day.”

Tooru looks at Kageyama, back turned towards them as he confers with his captain. “Yeah,” he says. “It has been.”

*    *    *

One coffee becomes two, and they talk about volleyball but that’s not the only thing they talk about, and it’s only when Tooru says, “You have a funny idea of a date,” that Kageyama huffs and goes quiet.

He doesn’t deny it, just continues to drink his coffee, blue eyes meeting Tooru’s over the rim of his cup.

Finally, Tooru stands up and says, “I’m going to the bathroom,” giving him a pointed look before he walks away. He doesn’t have to wait long until Kageyama stumbles in after him, and he searches for something in Tooru’s face that he seems to find before leaning in and kissing him, wordless and quick - not quite innocent, but something like it, reckless in its intensity.

Tooru slows him down, keeping half an ear out in case someone pulls at the door. Kageyama tastes like coffee, dark and rich against Tooru’s tongue, and he’s not as bad a kisser as Tooru expected, although his eyes are still clenched shut and his shoulders are rigid under Tooru’s hands.

Tooru wants him like this, hard and nervous against him, but he also wants him loose and easy, an old, childish sense of victory filling him at the thought - but all of that will have to come later. Right now, there’s only Kageyama’s tongue in his mouth and his fingers splayed over Kageyama’s shoulders, touching the paler skin underneath his t-shirt. This doesn’t feel like an inevitability, it feels like a choice - and Tooru has always favoured things he can control.

*    *    *

Here are three things Tooru knows about Tobio:

he is quiet and tactile in bed

he will never deny himself what he wants

he is where he is supposed to be.

Here is one thing Tobio knows about Tooru:

he is harder to read than he thinks.

Here is one thing they both know:

they are not the same people they once were.

 

Here is one thing they both know:

they can make this work.

 

 


End file.
